


Books, Sand and Zombies: a series of Nick Miller dreams about Jess Day

by Ghostcat



Category: New Girl
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostcat/pseuds/Ghostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick dreams about Jess often. He doesn't understand any of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Books, Sand and Zombies: a series of Nick Miller dreams about Jess Day

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters.
> 
> Canon compliant, maybe? Depends on what happens after "Elaine's Big Day".
> 
> Once again, I am beta-less (how does one get one? advertising?) so apologies for all typos. A companion piece (of sorts) to my previous story. 
> 
> Slightly less porny than my previous title. Sorry! Trying new things. Comments and feedback are appreciated.

The first time he dreams about her, he doesn't realize that it's a dream.

He's in bed and when he rolls over, there she is, reading a book about sandwich making, wearing one of those strappy shirts she wears for yoga. She doesn't seem surprised to see him, she is in _his_ damn bed after all. She says "Hey... " softly, like she knows him, bites her bottom lip, closes the book, puts it on a night stand that he doesn't own and mock marches her fingers under his sleeping bag comforter, her hand sliding smoothly between his legs and then up and down the length of him. He shivers. 

"Well, hello there, sailor," she says. He comes instantly.

The next morning, Nick wakes up to her singing "She's Like The Wind" in her room with that weird deep voice of hers and studiously avoids her the rest of the day. The following night, when everybody stops by the bar, he's extra mean to her. She doesn't seem to notice, just plays with her stirrer and sings snippets of songs from the jukebox, smiling brightly at him like they're best pals or something.

 

* * *

 

He paces in the kitchen, alternately pulling his hoodie over his head, crossing his arms, and shoving his hands angrily under his armpits. Schmidt ignores him.

"Schmidt."

Schmidt theatrically folds his newspaper. "Speak."

"I had a sex dream about Jess." He waits for Schmidt to flip. Instead he nods sagely.

"Small or large?"

"What?"

"Nipple size."

"How can everything you say be Jar worthy? You know what? Just give me the money. I need breakfast."

"No." Schmidt swats his hand away with his newspaper. "Are you going to act on your urges?"

"NO WAY. Don't get me wrong, she's cute but she's a little nutty for my taste."

Schmidt raises his eyebrows at him.

"Trust me Schmidt, I don't need that kind of hurt."

"I think we better get something in writing."

"What? Like a contract?"

"Yes, exactly. A contract."

"No, Schmidt. I am not signing a contract saying I won't have sex with our new roommate. That's really dumb, even for us dummies, not to mention embarrassing and I am a GROWN MAN..."

"No, the contract will state that none of us will nail her, including Coach."

The two friends stare at each other. Nick worries his jaw, narrowing his eyes in thought. Finally, he nods. "Okay. Okay, makes sense."

"I'll draft up something, you can check the legalese."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Good."

"Great!"

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Nip. Pull. Essssss."

"I didn't see her nipples. She had her clothes on."

"Really? Really." Schmidt picks his paper back up and opens it. "Even your sex dreams are pedestrian. Away with you! Begone!"

"What? You aren't a king, you can't shoo me out of my own kitchen!"

"Fetch!" Schmidt flings a bagel down the hall.

Nick shouts "Dammit!" but takes off after it anyway.

 

* * *

 

The dreams happen again a few times, okay well, more like six or seven, but the next time he remembers, he _really_ remembers. They're on the beach at night and it's cold. They are completely alone. She takes his hands and brings them up to her face. She is so pretty, he's tried hard not to notice. She has these huge eyes and up close he can see another color circling her pupil. Yellow, like flowers. Two flowers blinking at him.

"Nick," she says.

"Yes."

"Will you quit staring at my face and just kiss me?"

So he does, within a breath, he closes his eyes and puts his lips against hers. They taste honeyed, like the kind he drizzles in her green tea whenever she asks him to make her a cup. (Which he does because they are friends and friends make tea for friends.)

She makes a little noise in her throat. Surprise or desire, he can't tell but as they kiss, she takes his hands, entwining her fingers with his and pulls his arms around her. Their pelvises move against each other's, like horny teenagers and it even feels the same way, like it did when he was 16, except nicer because he knows what he's doing now. And WOW. He needs to bring her inside somewhere before he takes her right there in the sand.

Suddenly, he feels a breeze down below. He looks and realizes he's naked from the waist down.

"Don't worry, I'll warm you up," she says and sinks down to her knees in front of him, shooting him a dirty little smile along the way.

He's too excited to freak out at the pantless in public thing. Also, it feels greeeeeeat. She hums the Star Spangled Banner and oh god, he thinks he may sign up for the army or play ball or shoot himself out of a cannon. In a daze, he looks past her, looking for a bed, because there's always one on the boardwalk but there isn't one, there's only a dark forest at the edge of the sand. And what might be a large lizard. Wearing a bowler hat. When he wakes up, he's a little disappointed. It was weird but fantastic all at once.

He didn't have to work that day and when she gets home, he pats the seat next to him on the couch in the least creepy way possible and tells her she can have control of the remote. She looks confused but happy and proceeds to prattle away, ruining the plot of some old John Cusack movie he'd never even heard of. He pretends to be mad but isn't really. He isn't at all. She's a pretty cool chick. And sexy too he thinks in a small voice, which he shushes.

 

* * *

 

Six months and many dreams later, he's fighting zombies. He constructs a makeshift booby trap using tiki torches and skewers. Jess is there, helping him until the lights go out and suddenly, they're in a nightclub and she's got a spotlight on her. She sings some old timey song and Genz plays the clarinet, only he's her brother, Nick knows this because she calls him that.

The zombies break in, led by zombie Russell (looking pretty handsome for the undead he's gotta say) and they eat Genz who screams about as ugly as he cries. Winston, wearing a Rambo-esque bandanna on his head, comes out of nowhere and takes him and Jess by the hand and pushes them into a room that looks like a wine cellar and says, in his Theodore K. Mullins voice, "YOU HAVE TO REPOPULATE THE EARTH! IT'S WHAT THE LAWD WANTS!"

Jess shimmies out of her dress to reveal a super sexy Wonder Woman outfit and whispers "Make love to me, Miller". He picks her up, pins her against the wall and buries his face in her hair. She smells like bananas and that is so hot because he loves bananas and he hasn't eaten them in a long time and he really, really should because, vitamins. This time he knows right away that it's a dream because he's fucking her in record time. He alternates between really drilling into her and taking it super slow, all while effortlessly holding her up against the wall like a scene from one of those 80s soft porn movies he used to watch on stolen cable when he was a kid, except with better lighting and no Jaime. He comes, sucking on the freckle on her right shoulder, and that's when he wakes up, a little sticky but exhilarated.

Minutes later, she barges in to his room ( _BOUNDARIES, JESS_ ) because she wants to show him some swizzle stick set she bought for him at a yard sale. Luckily, he's cleaned up by then. He doesn't know what she's talking about or what the hell a swizzle stick is but she's got those insanely short shorts on again, and all he wants is to reach out and brush his fingers on her milky thigh. TOO FAR, NICK MILLER. TOO FAR. He slaps his cheeks. She looks at him questioningly.

"Coffee. Need it." He croaks by way of an excuse.

"Okay. One coffee comin' right up." She chirps and skip-slides out of the room.

After he's had the coffee and settled down a bit, she asks him if he can go to some movie with her because Cece is busy with a night shoot for deodorant and he says yeah, sure. Any excuse to sit next to her in the dark. (This is not something he tells himself. Nuh uh. Nope.)

 

* * *

 

It's been about a year and a half. Jess has got him and Winston blowing up a kiddie pool on the roof and setting up these little fans. He doesn't know how or why, but despite their grumbling, they always follow her directives in the end.

"Nick." Winston's voice has got that hard edged I-mean-business-Nick tone.

He grunts in response.

Winston continues. "You drank too much last night. And fell asleep on the couch. Again."

"Yeah, buddy. About that. Thanks for moving me to my room. You're awesome."

"Yeah, Jess helped."

Nick can feel Winnie's stare. _Do_ _not look, do not engage_. "Okay, I'll thank her too."

"And you rubbed her shoulders. Called her sweetheart. "

Nick shrugs and swigs his beer.

"And kept winking at her. Like a fool."

"So what? I've given you plenty of hugs and stuff when I'm wasted."

"True, true. When you're drunk, you get frisky. 'Member that time you grabbed Coach's ass--"

"HEY! I thought we agreed to never talk about that. It was a moment of weakness."

"Look Nick. I know you. I know those moves and it's not the same as this. The shoulder rubbing and calling her sweetheart? That's some Caroline-level stuff right there. Should I be worried about you?"

"No, no, no. Don't be silly." Then after a moment. "What did Jess do? Did she say something?"

Winston sighs. "I think she was too busy trying to tuck you in to notice."

Nick scrunches up his face. "So that's how that freakin' floral pillow got in my room. I thought maybe Schmidt lost his mind."

"So. Should I be worried about you?"

"Nah. Jess is my friend. We're good friends. That's all. Besides, I was sleeping, right? Half asleep? Sleeping Nick has his own agenda."

Jess arrives with Schmidt and Cece, loaded with snacks and arguing about Social Security, and Nick pretends not to notice Winston watching him with narrowed eyes.

 

* * *

 

"Nick."

"Jessica."

They are facing each other in a motel bed, somewhere near Monterey. An impulsive road trip. They're pretty impulsive nowadays.

"I had a dream about you."

"Oh yeah?"

"It was ummm pretty sexy stuff if you know what I'm sayin'."

"Right on. Did I rock your world?"

"More like me rocking yours. Like a hurricane."

She mimes a hurricane but she just looks like she's swimming. Or puppet boxing.

"Excellent. Want to show me?"

"Sure thing, sailor."

"What's that? Sailor? Did you just call me sailor?" He laughs.

"Sorry, nervous habit."

"No, I like that. Call me sailor."

"Really? Yeah?"

"Yeah, I like it a lot. It's...nice." He rests his forehead against hers, close enough to feel her lashes fluttering against his cheek, her smile on his neck.

"Are you tired? Do you want to go to back to sleep?" She asks and kisses the spot next to his ear softly.

He rolls her over on top of him and says "Oh, no. We've got some dream reenactments you need to show me. Come on Cap'n. It's your duty."

She laughs and spreads her arms, singing something about "Doin' it for your country, the red, white and the blue!" and where the hell does she get this stuff? It's working for him though. He's never felt more awake.


End file.
